


Stolen Regrets

by MB_Westover



Series: Where Old Souls are Reborn into New Faces [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe, Clan Culture, F/M, Japanese Culture and Influence, Journal Entries, Reincarnation, Shinobi Culture, Warring Clans Era, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MB_Westover/pseuds/MB_Westover
Summary: We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.Uchiha!SI/OC. Warring Clans Era. AU
Relationships: Original Uchiha Character & Uchiha Clan, Original Uchiha Character/Senju Tobirama, minor background relationships - Relationship
Series: Where Old Souls are Reborn into New Faces [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035477
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue: The Memoir of Uchiha Takara

**Author's Note:**

> “If you are looking for reasons, there are none.”  
> —Nina LaCour

In an old, _old_ journal, bound by time and careful hands, lies the story of one girl who had grown into a woman. The script is careful, the characters neat as ink bleeds over the pages in a steady hand that has seen much.

It is a treasured journal, passed down with love and care to those who know this hand. To those who had loved the author.

 _There_. It says, dark and bold. _There I was._

There is a story between those pages, one that is wrought with tears, blood, and sacrifice in such a way that only an Uchiha can fully comprehend. There is a Curse there, between cramped characters and the dot of ink that marked a little more humanity. It is not a well-known story, one that had been forgotten and secluded from time as things changed and notable things became common, common becoming unimportant, and unimportant fading away to modernity.

It is the evidence of one girl who had grown into a woman during those darker times, tucked away in a bookshelf so cramped it is almost forgotten between the dusty spines of one _The Elemental Nations: Volume IV and Yahiro's Auspicious Adventures_.

* * *

_"The irony of sleeping has been discussed over time and terms such as something that is practiced and tried, a glimpse into the unknown mystique we hold of death. What comes after the end? Are there credits, giving the complete sense of an epilogue well-written? Or maybe is there a silence, the ringing of change in the ears of those unlucky few._

_The whole meaning of death is what we mortals have come to affix an ending to. Sleep is a taste of that ending, a deep dark spiralling end that has us falling face first into uncertainty. We wake up, of course, but death doesn't. That's the irony._

_You can argue that death does continue; that many people die everyday. But that's the cycle, not death itself._

_Mortality is a disease upon mankind that we don't fear until we lay in our own beds, suddenly marked by the thought that maybe tomorrow isn't so sure. It's natural to be afraid of the unknown._

_Unlike others though, I found a continuation to my story. A single thread, holding fast despite the way time thrashes and throttles me, like waves crashing on a cliffside._

_The end of things wasn't what I had thought it to be, preconceived notions of an empty abyss holding onto my until my mind drifted away to time. I suppose beliefs or notions didn't matter to whatever cosmic entity or occurrence that had me blinking up at the sky for a second time._

_Maybe I was the first of second chances. Maybe I was the last._

_Maybe I was a mistake._

_Whatever I was, whatever had happened, gave me another shot. Gave me another chance to smell the sweet earthy tone of the grass after the rain or the opportunity to feel the warmth of a fire against my skin._

_I was given a gift. A truly wondrous and terrible gift, to be bestowed another chance._

_Maybe I am blasphemous to believe that I was given another life, maybe I am crazy to believe that I was not who I am now. All I know is that death is one fickle and teasing friend I have come to find not as scary as it used to be in my years where I searched for answers._

_And this is where it begins. The life and regrets of an old woman who looks back on things she wishes she had done a bit differently on greetings and farewells."_


	2. The Beginning of a Regretful Memoir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes life is like this tunnel. You can't always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place."
> 
> —Iroh, Avatar the Last Airbender

From the women in my extensive family, I was told that my birth was an unusually hard one for a woman who had been in labor five times before me. It was said that tradition was eschewed to increase the survival of both my mother and myself, for there were men in the birthing room along with women who were not of my mother's or father's immediate family.

It was not a lucky sign, despite what they insisted on saying that I _had_ been born under a lucky sign.

I had been born into blood, unusually quiet and solemn for a newborn babe. It was only by the grace and fervent hope of my mother that I lived, her stubborn maternal drive to see me live being the only reason my helpless newborn self did not give out before I could properly taste life once again.

Uchiha Ujiri had paid for my life with her own, laboring even after my birth in a diligent vigil over my crib to make sure that with each breath I took, it would not be my last. It was her sacrifice for my own life that had snuffed out hers, for her health never properly recovered from those first few months of just sleepless nights watching over me to make sure death did not climb between the bars of my crib and snatch me while the house slept.

It was humbling to know that from the moment I had taken my first breath into this life that there was already someone holding onto me so tightly. A mother's love-it was not something I could come to forget.

I would not know Uchiha Ujiri, but losing her was one of the deepest sorrows I had come to be aware of. I would never know her, and that itself was a grievous thing.

I would be aware of her, I would know _of_ her through the memories of others with little else to make my own judgement because no one speaks ill of the dead. I would not know her ugly traits or if she had any, a chance of knowing and thanking the woman who gave me a gift so precious gone before I could even comprehend the world around me.

Looking back, if I concentrated hard enough I could recall _something_. A primal emotion that bonded me to the woman that had given herself to make me.

The first year of my life was a blur, of course, as our mind decides that such things as early as that are easy to let go and make space for the newer memories we have now. What I could remember however, was limited to the blurring flash of colors and maybe the scent of incense being burned during those early, early days being different than the one now.

It must've been hard to be a baby, helpless in a way that I had never thought to be. Consciousness was not yet a thing of course, for how sentient _can_ a babe logically be without recognizing who they are?

However, from that first year of life, there _was_ a memory I could truly say was my own without the embellishments and stories given to me by another family member. It was a precious memory, the sudden clarity of being _Here_ once again as I hold onto dark hair in a tight, much too-small grip that does not quite match the strength I thought I had.

I can remember the gentle tune of a chiding voice before the memory fades.

It was a memory I kept to myself, for fear of my own hope of it being my mother being dashed. There were plenty of women who watched after me in my motherless days, passed from cousin to cousin, aunt to aunt, raised by not one but multiple women who could technically count as my mother if I loved them hard enough.

And I did love them. Just not in the way I would've had my mind fully been a child's. It was hard to not love people back when they so obviously cared for you. It was light trying to swim upstream in a young river.

I was born into a big family. A _huge_ family with so many faces and scents and voices that sometimes it was easier to just sleep away the confusion and stress before my mind felt overloaded. The women who cared for me had become the most familiar, ranging between several of them who all tucked me into my crib as the sun settled under the horizon. They had their own family units, composed of their own children and husbands. I was humbled and honored by how they easily took me into their own care. I do not think that I would have been able to do the same if I was in their situation.

The emphasis on community was great in my family. Despite my own confusion on just why, I had come to easily accept that perhaps this was how things were done. Questions lingered in the back of my mind along the lines of: _who, what, when, where,_ and most importantly, _how._

I had my own family unit, dark eyes curiously peeking at me through the bars of my crib and even the occasional blurry figure standing tall over me. They were silent most of the time, but gentle when they handled me as if turning me in their arms would snap me in half if they did not restrain their actions.

It was the actions of an inexperienced parent. One that made me very sad.

There was something different in the people here, it lingered in the air and every being of the world. A low buzz of _something_ that I felt most aware of when it was the slow waking moments between _not-yet-sleep_ and _not-yet-awake._

I felt the buzz in my own lethargic and clumsy baby-limbs as I struggled to control which way my own hands and arms flailed. That buzz did not go away as I grew, but it became a new normal that I could not think of having. It was my own lullaby as I fell asleep, my comfort as my aunts or cousins chatted to each other and let the smaller children lay on the wooden porch as they sewed.

It became a part of me.

"Ta-tan! Ta-tan!" I turned, clumsy feet almost tripping as I slid across the wood of the porch. One of my aunts' hands darted out to steady my steps, chiding me in a soft voice before turning back to her work.

I was the youngest in my own family unit, the only daughter amongst five sons. Sadly, I wondered at times if my parents continued to have children if only to have a girl in the brood of boys they already had.

"Zuzu."

The toddler beamed, tiny teeth gleaming in pleasure. Izuna was the closest in age to me, a curious little boy who had found the most joy in dragging me along with him wherever he went. It was a trait many of the older women had found both adorable and endearing. It only added that Izuna was a very cute toddler with large doe-like eyes so dark that they looked black.

"Come on, Ta-tan! Let's go play!" Small hands clamped around my own, tugging incessantly until I had no choice but to clumsily follow. My limbs were still awkward and heavy, not yet my own. Despite the number of times Izuna had been scolded for being too rough in handling me, he seemed to always forget in his excitement.

I was the youngest of the family, so it was not hard to imagine why he was so exuberant when around me. He was no longer the baby of our family, finally having someone to look after or boss around like our brothers no-doubt do to him.

Twisting my head to look around at my group of babysitters, I catch the idle hand-wave of permission before turning to look back around at Izuna's sparkling eyes. A smile forms on my face, eyes crinkling as I nod in affirmation.

"Let's go!"

We ran on clumsy feet, giggling and hushing each other as we clambered off the engawa and onto the ground, springing up with only a vitality children seemed to have before a rough hand pushed against my chest.

Izuna grins, a mischievous glint in those dark eyes as he proclaims, "You're it!"

I stare after him, watching his jerky run that most children seemed to do. Coordination was not yet ingrained into our minds and bodies until we grew older. His movements had me likening him to a clumsy fawn and I wondered if I looked like that when I toddled around our home.

"Not fair!" I cry, despite the grin that lights up on my face. I was slow compared to him, and if there was anything that children liked, it was the feeling of winning. So no matter who chased or ran, I was the ultimate loser in the end. "I wanted to play hide and seek!"

Izuna laughed, dark hair ruffling in the soft spring breeze.

* * *

" _We spent the whole day playing, laughing at our scraped knees and grass-stains on our clothes that would earn us a swat on the backside. It didn't matter when I was with him, so young and clumsy, that happiness came unbidden._

_I was given the gift of life once again. Seeing Izuna smile in those early memories, so free and unburdened…_

_It made me realize how much I wanted to live for those I had come to love, even if I did not realize it. "_

* * *

The looking-glass in front of me was taller than I was, taller than my aunts helping me into a fancy kimono that had layers upon layers and made me feel like I was a stuffed mushroom than a little girl. Unfortunately, my aunts thought otherwise, the older women praising and fawning over my kimono and hair.

"Such a big day!" Yume-oba crowed, her dark eyes lined in red as she bent down to press her face next to mine, meeting my eyes in the mirror. She was a beautiful woman with a long face and small lips that seemed to be forever quirked up as if she found something amusing that others were not aware of.

"-how grown she is! I can still remember when she was just born!" Taoyagi-oba exclaims, her name very much fitting the woman whose face holds a captivating and lovely charm to it. Taoyagi-oba nudges her sister out of the way, kneeling to wrap the cord that would go around my waist as I was not old enough for an obi yet.

Kita-oba snorted from her place as she leaned against the wall. She was older than both of the other women, gray beginning to sprout from her temples, and I was under the impression that unlike Yume and Taoyagi, she held a much closer relation to me than the others. Her features were similar to mine in a way that spoke of a close relation.

Ever the no-nonsense type of woman, Kita-oba pushed off from against the wall to give my outfit and hair a critical look. I had spent the most amount of time in her care when compared to the others, only strengthening my suspicion that we were close relations.

Dark eyes narrowing, I held still as her hand extended to fix one of the numerous pins in my hair. "There. Now you don't look as if you are about to run wild."

I doubted that I would look as if I were to run wild with just one pin out of place, but Kita-oba had an eye for organization and perfection that I had never come across in anyone else. It was better for everyone to agree and thank her when she fixed what she found as imperfections, lest receive her look of Disappointment that cowed even her husband.

"Thank you, oba-san." I duck my head carefully, as to not disturb the numerous pins in my hair. I felt like some sort of doll all dressed up, and my reflection in the mirror only proved my thoughts correct.

The cord they had tied around was a deep violet, pleasantly contrasting with the mainly-red ensemble I wore. It was an auspicious color, if I remembered one of Taoyagi-oba's off-handed comments right. Curls of gold patterned across the kimono, forming vague shapes that could be one or another. I knew that on my back was a bright golden sun, a nod to one of the Gods my family revered.

Kita-oba's eyes crinkled in that way she did when pleased. "Now come, the clan is waiting."

She turns away, not looking back as she gracefully slides the shōji open. Yume-oba is quick to lend me a hand off the stool I had been standing on for the last few hours, my knees almost buckling from movement after being locked in position for too long.

"Careful. We don't want to ruin your Oba-sans' hard work." Yume-oba chuckles, carefully leading me out of the room with a guiding hand. Taoyagi makes up the rear of our little procession, sliding the shōji door shut behind us.

Inner hallways give to outer-halls, shōji being slid open by Kita-oba who leads the three of us past gardens in a slow pace that allows me to keep up with my short stature and heavy burden of layers. It's a small grace that I am thankful for and I am aware that if I was an ordinary child, I would most likely have been carried to the ceremony. Alas, I am not.

"How long will the ceremony last, Yume-oba?" I don't tilt my head up to look at her, concentrated on my feet and not tripping over the hem of my clothes.

Yume-oba gives a small amused sound, her hand squeezing mine. "Why? Do you have any other appointments?

Taoyagi-oba huffs a laugh from behind us and I hum. "No."

The woman holding my hand snorts in a rather unladylike action, letting go of my hand to help me into a pair of geta as we reach the edge of the home that gives way to cobbled stone. Our actions are slow and careful, as to not disturb the pins dangling in my hair more than they should.

There's the low sound of a drum somewhere, a steady beat against the warm air that signals the change in seasons from Spring to Summer. It was my first full year of my new life.

Perhaps it was being reborn, but my mind had felt stronger, _faster_ than it should be of a child no more than a year old. Don't children develop slower? When do complex thoughts and vocalizations come in? Why was my fast growth not treated like an oddity?

Setting my feet on the cobbled ground, I turned my head to look around my surroundings. The buildings were traditional, capped by dark-tiled roofs that had the slightest curve upwards at the end. The architecture niggled something in my mind, somewhere far away and locked behind a door I could not yet open.

We made our way forward, closer to the strong beat of the drums. I felt as if I was nearing a beast as the drums became louder, stronger, reverberating in my chest in a way that my heart had no choice but to sync with the beat to not be swept away. It was a humbling feeling, being so small compared to others, but feeling it, as if I was naught more than a fly upon the back of a buffalo.

Numerous figures of my family made up the group standing in what looked to be a square. Hair and eye colors ranging from brown to the primarily dominant black all swiveled to look at me as the reedy sounds of a flute and a stringed instrument picked up. I stumbled, nervous at all the attention, despite Yume-oba's hiss.

There was no doubt that I was related to the mass of people that filled the square, some even spilling outwards to settle themselves on the branches of a large tree that overlooked it. Yukatas and kimonos all in darker colors were a parting sea of navy to black that made me feel as if I was a koi in an empty pond.

Kita-oba cuts the crowd, gentle as she turns to lift me into her arms and up onto an erected dais. I try not to jolt at the sudden change as she maneuvers me onto a cushion in front of a low table. Across the table sit nine of the oldest people I have ever seen in this life, wrinkles more prominent in their tanned, aged faces as one of them beckons me closer.

"Choose, child. May the Gods be gracious," says the old man, his long white beard wiggling as he spoke, a glimpse of a missing tooth peeking out from between sunken lips.

I pause, turning a nervous gaze to the crowd behind me despite Kita-oba's low hiss of displeasure. Dark eyes, all expectant stare back at me some of them crinkled in amusement, others with raised brows at my lack of formalities.

I look upon the items on the table laid in front of me. They were lined up neatly, each being placed on individual square red cloths that made them pop out brightly against the bold color. On the square the furthest to my left sat a simple brush, then a small leather pouch roughened by age, in front of me was a small bundle of dull purple flowers that were wilting, tied together by a piece of plain twine. Finally, on my right, sat a simple corded rope that seemed so out of place among the rest.

I look up at the old man in front of me, his dark eyes coolly meeting my own.

"Don't be afraid to pick, child."

So with great hesitation, I reach forward.

* * *

" _It was charged in the very air. Anticipation for what the great Tajima-sama's only daughter would be destined to be._

_I have very little memory of the event itself-I was only a year old-but by multiple Selection Ceremonies I have attended through the years, it is a very revered occasion for all children born into the Uchiha Clan, for it is our way and tradition._

_While it may not seem like it, our clan of surly and aloof men and women are very superstitious. Amaterasu had blessed our line from the union of our very first Ancestor, who, if clan records are to be believed, is a descendant from the Sage of Six Paths._

_What sacred blood I seem to hold in this old body, no?_

* * *

My hand smoothed over the stems, the twine rough under my fingers as I clasped the dying bundle firmly and looked up to a startling pair of _red_ eyes.

A cheer broke out somewhere in the crowd, Yume-oba darted forward to lift me into her arms and hold me high as more began cheering.

Eyes wide, I looked over the crowd, my family, the beating of the drum matching not only my heart, but those around me.

For the first time in this life, I wondered about my future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary used in this chapter:
> 
> Takara(宝): Treasure, Jewel.
> 
> Ujiri (宇治里): To be honest, this name is completely made up. I remember reading that Tajima's name was based off of Gochi-no-Tajima (Tajima Arrow Cutter), a warrior-monk who fought at the Battle of Uji which is famous for opening up the Genpei War. Uji is a real location in Japan. 'Ri', with the character I used means village, so essentially the name means Uji-village, but I wanted to use the character village as a wink/nudge to Madara's later actions with Hashirama to form Konoha.
> 
> Yume(夢): Dream, vision
> 
> Taoyagi (艶粧): Captivating, lustrous, colorful + cosmetics
> 
> Kita (喜多): Many happinesses
> 
> -
> 
> I honestly could not help but slide in a big reference to Compass of Thy Soul/Direct thee to Peace by Umei no Mai, by adding a character named Kita in. Honestly, if you have not read that duo, you are missing out on some awesome world/culturalbuilding that I can only aspire to be like in my own writing.
> 
> The Selection Ceremony is based on a real-world ceremony in Japanese culture known as Erabitori (Zhuazhou in Chinese) where on the child's first birthday, items are laid in front of them that symbolize a child's future career and personality traits.
> 
> I wanted to use this ceremony and give it an original flare (as per creative liberties) as the Uchiha/Elemental Nations are another world/universe despite their heavy Japanese influence presented. Takara is overdressed as it is her day, but also because her clothing symbolizes small details about the Uchiha clan that she is yet to be aware of. Each color worn-purple, red, gold, white-all hold significant meanings in Japanese culture and I wanted to push that small detail in as much as I could!

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from FF.net


End file.
